I think anyone who knows me, even slightly, would call me a bit of a girly girl. I discovered the joys of shoes and clothes shopping at the tender age of.. ohhh I don’t know, about 9 (seriously) and I realised how great it is to get your hair ‘done’ (as opposed to just the standard dry cut that most children get) when I was 17 and never looked back.
I’ve dabbled in nail extensions (lifelong nail biter remember?), hair extensions (briefly and unsuccessfully – just the clip-in ones!), false eyelashes (LOVE!) and lash extensions (LOVE even more but expensive!). Before David and I went away on our first holiday together (a sort of pre-honeymoon 3 weeks before our wedding), I decided to ditch the razor and go for my first wax (legs and other). It was not a pleasant experience and lets just say, it took a lot of wine and painkillers to convince me to go back but now that I’ve persevered with it for three years, I am really reaping the rewards (all you fellow waxers will know what I mean!)
So earlier this year when I finally managed to stop biting my nails, it seemed inevitable that manicures would be added to my regime. Before going back to work I didn’t like to spend the money but now I’m back in the land of the employed, having a mani/pedi once in a while doesn’t seem that unreasonable (plus they actually stand a chance of lasting a while longer now I’m not wrestling with a toddler all day!)
So. To the point of this
long winded story.
I went to my usual nail salon last weekend to have the full works and, as is usual on a Sunday for some reason, it was full of blonde Surrey housewives chatting about getting their hair done in Harrods and getting cabs everywhere. (Seriously, what these people are doing at a nail salon in my town is beyond me, it’s not that special!). Anyway so half of these women could easily be me in 20 years (except richer by the sounds of it) and one of them was there with her daughter who looked around 20, getting their nails done together.
Ridiculous as this sounds, my brain actually made the jump from this to getting worried I may never have a daughter. It seems crazy to me that someone like myself could be a mummy to only (gorgeous) boys. I love Oliver more than anything but I don’t list trains, cars and mud on my list of activities that are fun. Of course I know that plenty of men grow up to really care about their appearance and dress better than a lot of women – equally I also know that some girls really hate all this beauty stuff and think it’s a waste of time and money.
Bottom line though… I’d still love to have a daughter to do all this girly stuff with one day…
… otherwise Oliver has got a lifetime of me painting his nails ahead of him!!
Oh and what a great PS. story – sat in the pedicure chair next to me, one of these aforementioned glossy, housewifey ladies (sporting a rather impressive pair of fake boobs) actually had a little lap dog with a sparkly pink collar. In the chair. WITH HER. I swear this actually happened. In fact, now I think about it she was also the one who gets her hair done in Harrods and gets cabs everywhere.
It figures really.